Page 44 of Reckless King

“What are you doing?” I whisper back.

“She’s still watching. And I’m not sure she’s convinced.” His eyes flick between mine, then zero in on my mouth. A wicked grin tilts his lips. “Yes or no, butterfly?”

My heart hammers against my rib cage. I can do this. I can kiss Tate for show and not feel anything. I knowhewon’t.

I swallow hard and murmur, “Yes,” doing my best to ignore the way my stomach twists. It’s nerves, not anticipation.

Tate doesn’t hesitate, dipping his head and brushing his lips across mine. At first, I think that’s all it’s going to be. But I should have known a man like Tate wouldn’t half-ass things. He captures my chin, his fingers warm against my skin. Then he presses his mouth firmly to mine.

Out of sheer instinct, my eyes flutter shut, and I open for him. He pushes his tongue into my mouth, and instantly, the kiss becomes harder, hungrier. Tingles course over my skin, and the noise of the ballroom around us fades as, without thinking, I kiss him back. My pulse races and I can barely restrain myself from moaning when his teeth tug on my lower lip and his tongue strokes deeper. With one hand keeping me close, he slides the other down to collar my throat, and I press my thighs together as my core clenches in response.

That involuntary reaction snaps me out of the haze I’ve drifted into. I’ve completely lost track of where I am and what I’m supposed to be doing. I pull back, trying not to let my embarrassment show. Because once again, I let myself get swept up in the pretense. But when I try to step away, Tate tightens his hold on me. He looks back at Amy, who, for reasons unknown, is still standing there.

“As you can see, I find it hard to keep my hands off my girlfriend,” Tate says.

“Yes, well, how… nice.” Her lips are pursed, and she’s obviously uncomfortable. After a half-hearted comment about hoping to see us both soon, she rushes away.

She’s quickly replaced by another person though, so I don’t have time to think about the kiss and how it affected me. Or maybe I don’twantto think too hard about it. Tate keeps his arm wrapped around my waist, and I get so used to having it there that I even begin to enjoy the weight of it. After a delicious dinner, where I chat with Delilah and have a surprisingly enjoyable conversation with Tate and his brothers, we spend more time mingling. Tate’s arm is around me again, and I find myself melting into his hold a little too easily.

Finally, the night is over. We say good night to Tate’s brothers and Delilah, but he doesn’t bother to seek his mom out before we leave. It’s only when we’re safely ensconced in his limo, away from the music and the wine and the people, that I can no longer distract myself from thinking about his lips on mine.

For some reason, I was expecting this role to consist mostly of Tate pointing at me and telling people I’m his girlfriend, with the occasional chaste hug or peck on the cheek to be convincing. I wasn’t expecting him to put so much effort into making our relationship appear real. And I definitely wasn’t expecting to find it so overwhelming being the focus of his attention that way.

Now, as we sit in the back of the car, I have to fight the worry creeping in. This playacting Tate’s girlfriend was supposed to be easy. The opinion of him I established years ago should have ensured there was no possibility of developing real feelings. But in the short time we’ve spent together, that opinion is already changing. He might be a playboy, but apparently, even I’m not immune to his charm when he lays it all on me.

Our ride home is silent. He’s as lost in his thoughts as I am in mine. I don’t mind the quiet. I’ve been indulging in small talk most of the night, so it’s a welcome reprieve. I do wonder what’s filling Tate’s thoughts though. I could ask him, but I’m not sure I want to know. Maybe I wasn’t as good at playing the part of hisgirlfriend as he hoped. Maybe he’s wishing he’d chosen someone else. Or maybe he’s not thinking about me at all. His mind could very easily be fixed on his work after how often it was brought up tonight.

Jeremy pulls up outside my building, and a moment later, he opens the car door for me. As I step out onto the sidewalk, I turn back to Tate to say goodbye, only to find him already climbing out behind me.

“You don’t have to get out,” I say.

“What sort of boyfriend would I be if I kicked you out on the side of the road?”

A laugh escapes me. “A fake one?”

He steps closer, his big form crowding me, forcing me to look up at him. “I don’t care if this is fake or not. You signed up to be my girlfriend, so I’ll treat you exactly the way I would if you were actually mine.”

I swallow past my dry throat. That’s not the first time he’s used the word mine. I should hate it far more than I do.

With a shake of my head, I make one last effort to resist. “You don’t need to?—”

He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear, stopping me mid-sentence, and cups the back of my head. “Don’t argue with me, butterfly. It’s going to happen one way or the other. Either we walk together like a civilized couple, or I’ll sling you over my shoulder and carry you up there.” He pulls back, that devilish look dancing in his eyes. “To be honest, I’m not sure which option I’d prefer.”

I’d laugh it off if I didn’t think Tate would do exactly what he’d described without a second thought.

Deciding to save my energy for another battle I’m sure to have to wage against him, I step back and fish my keys out of my purse. “Come on, then, Prince Charming. See me safely home.”

Silently, we take the stairs up to the third floor. I unlock my door and step inside, then turn to face him. When I do, my pulse immediately races. God, he’s gorgeous. He undid his bow tie in the car, and the way it hangs loose around his neck is so undeniably sexy. As if he’s in the middle of stripping his clothes off. As if his next move will be to take me to bed and ravish me.

A man like Tate probably wouldn’t even make it to the bedroom.

The thought has desire snaking its way through my veins. I can only hope he can’t see the direction my mind has gone. “I hope you’re not expecting your fake boyfriend benefits to extend to me inviting you in for a drink.”

He props his shoulder against the doorframe, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. “If I was going to push for the full boyfriend experience, it wouldn’t be a drink I was coming in for.”

A slow wave of heat rolls through my body, leaving my skin flushed in its wake. “Well, since the full boyfriend experience isn’t on the table, I guess this is where we say good night.”

He straightens, unruffled. “I guess so.” He steps forward, focused a little too intently on my face. “Thank you for tonight, Violet.” His voice drops low. “You were very… convincing.”

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